When the confirmation buzzes back a minute later, I slide my cell phone back into my pocket and smile to myself.
London just got very interesting.
Chapter Nine
Rhett
First stop, the London Dungeon. Meet you at the entrance at ten am.
Her text arrived at 8am Friday. The professional-sounding text didn’t scream high-stakes date, and I know she’s still hung up on Mr. Dependability, but my mind is already spinning with the possibilities the day could bring.
I arrive at the building at five to ten. I stand outside, leaning up against the wall, one foot off the ground, and scan the surrounding area. The street is crowded, full of a mixture of tourists and the usual hum of London life. I check my watch for the third time in as many minutes. Punctuality is a habit I cling to like oxygen, but I’ll wait for Pippa if I have to.
I need not have worried.
I spot her immediately. No one else has that head-turning, bombshell, sex kitten energy that defines her. She is wearing dark skinny jeans that fit her perfectly, a soft-blue shirt that she has tucked at the waist, and the nude heels from the other night. She walks with effortless elegance. The soft red waves of her bouncing with every step, and as she gets closer, I can see hereyes, bright and alert, as she scans the surroundings looking for me.
I have to admit. She looks fucking stunning. And yet, there is not a single trace of pretension, fake posing, or posturing. She’s just Pippa, comfortable in her own skin, all energy and light. And she has that very slight bounce of excitement in her step that makes my pulse tick up without warning. Whatever today brings, I feel like it’s going to be good.
“Rhett!” She waves and calls when she spots me. Her smile is wide, a little mischievous. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Pippa,” I greet, pushing myself off the wall. “You’re punctual. I like that.”
She shrugs adorably. “I think I’m more Occasional Chaos than Strict Punctuality. In future, you should add an extra 15 minutes to whatever time we decide on meeting.”
I nod solemnly. “Got it.”
She clasps her hands and looks up at me. “Well then, should we hug?”
I open my arms, and she quickly presses herself against me. It was meant to feel friendly, but it sets a subtle tension in the air. She’s warm against my chest, and smells faintly of perfume, soft with floral notes. My chest tightens ever so slightly, and the urge to crush her mouth with mine is overwhelming, but I remind myself that she’ll have to be won over. I’ll have to show her that her Mr. Dependability isn’t worth her time or effort.
“Let’s go,” she says, pulling away.
The gaunt façade of the London Dungeons looms ahead. It holds one thousand years of the city’s gruesome history. The entrance is decked out with gothic arches and flickering torches, a perfect tease for the dark, macabre entertainment inside. She nudges me forward, her eyes sparkling.
“This is going to be terrible,” she says, laughing softly. “It’s immersive so I’m going to scream at everything, but it’s ok, because so are you.”
“I don’t think I’ll scream, but if you do, I will be right here.” I gesture vaguely at my chest and grin appealingly. “You know, to save you.”
Her eyes flick up at me, just for a moment, and her lips twitch. “You sure you can handle that responsibility?”
“Do you doubt it?”
She turns toward the entrance and gestures dramatically at the façade. “Well, in that case, lead the way, Sir Rhettimus.”
I smile inwardly at her new name for me: Sir Rhettimus, keeper of the scared, graceful lady. Not a bad title, though if she knew my real intentions…
We go to the ticket booth, and Pippa insists on paying for the tickets. I try to tell her it isn’t necessary, but she gives me a look that says argue at your peril. I give in gracefully, making a mental note to make sure to beat her to every other booth for the rest of the day.
As we step inside the actual dungeons, the air changes. It’s cooler, kind of damp, and it smells faintly of wood, dust, and something I can only describe as theatrically medieval. A guide in full garb - a brown leather coat, a wide-brimmed hat, the works – appears seemingly out of nowhere and ushers us forward with a dark grin.
“Welcome to the London Dungeon,” he intones. “Here, you will face the darkest, most horrifying moments of the city’s history. Only the brave will survive.”
Pippa shivers dramatically. “Oh no,” she says, her voice mock panicked. “That’s me screwed. I’m not brave.”
I glance at her, taking in the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers grip the handbag that is slung over her right shoulder. There is a genuine human reaction here. She isputting on a brave face when she’s actually afraid of accidentally making a fool of herself again. My chest warms at the subtle vulnerability.
“I’m right here,” I whisper softly, just for her. “Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
